She came to me then, with a fire in her eyes and a question burning upon her lips. The lips I had only tasted once, but could still feel pressed against mine.

"Raoul, is it alright to love? To love something evil? Is it alright to love something that will go to hell when it dies, and to want to follow it? Is it alright to love someone who will go to hell?"

I asked her what she was talking about, panicking as she suddenly dug her beautiful nails into her face-dragging them downwards and leaving white trails down her flamed checks.

"I love him Raoul! I love a man who does not have a face! A man who has killed! A man who enjoyed killing once! I love him! I love him like no one should love another human! He says that no one else could feel what he feels, but I do! I hear his Don Juan and I know it before it plays, for it is in my heart too! Do you understand Raoul? He knows what is in my heart though he knows it not! I understand him! I understand the love of a mad man!"

Still I did not understand, blinded by the last remnants of sleep. Blearily I foolishly asked, "Who?"

"The Opera Ghost!" she shrieked, before collapsing against my chest. I slowly sat back down in the chair I had only vacated a moment ago, stunned with the knowledge that my brain had just received.

And there it was, the truth that I had known for so long, but refused to acknowledge. The truth that had just brutally clawed its way to the fore front of my mind, leaving behind a trail of confused feelings, upturned memories, and strange thoughts. I had no choice then, but to realize the awful knowledge. Christine was lost to me. The girl I had idolized though my childhood and adult life was forever lost to me. I could only cherish her memory in my mind, for the woman in front of me was not the girl I played with by the sea. She was different, beautiful, graceful, and completely shut off from me. My Christine was dead.

"Erik is dead, Christine," I spoke warily, afraid of her as one would be of a rabid animal. "It was announced in the Epoch today."

"No! You're lying. Stop it! Stop it!" Her slim fists beat at me, while her screeches slowly turned into heart-wrenching wails. As her cries lessened and she stopped attacking me, she began to whisper a new mantra, "bring him back to me. Bring him back."

Disturbed at the sight before me, I could only whisper, "I- I can't do anything Christine. He's dead."

"NO! It should have been you, Raoul! You!" She flew back into a fury, emphasizing each word with a punch to my torso. She began to shake me in earnest now, the way a mother bitch will shake a misguided child. "It should have been you!"

Now terrified at the transformation before me, I barely registered another voice, much quieter and farther away. "Raoul, wake up! Wake up, dear." Confused, I sat up. Wait, hadn't I already been standing? Blinking, I registered the cold white interior of a modern day hospital room. Sitting on the edge of the bed to my right was my wife and our two children, Jacques and Maria. "What," my voice cracked horribly, "what am I doing here?"

"Don't you remember, you silly foolish man?" Magarite, asked. "The house caught on fire, and you were pinned under a beam when you tried to find Pierre- you know, the neighbor's nephew who was staying for the summer. You went into surgery, and the doctors say that the skin grafts should take, but, well, your face might never heal properly."

As my wife spoke, I began to remember what had occurred during the fire, as well as other aspects of my real life. Other aspects- including our reclusive neighbor Christine Daée. I had always admired the beautiful woman from afar, something about her quiet and innocent demeanor drawing me into a web of fantasies where we were together. I had never dared play out any of my desires, as I was a married man, and a tall, cloaked stranger often was seen coming and going in the late night and early morning. Shaking my head to dispel my distraction, I turned my attention back to Margarite, who offered me a mirror.

Hesitantly, I reached for it. After all, who knew what I would see within the glass. What greeted me, was horrifying. Half of my face was covered in gauze bandages, and the other half looked as if it was composed of baked mud. The experience was surreal, especially compared to my previous features. Once again shaking my head, I quietly asked Margarite to take the children and give me some privacy.

After the door closed, I found myself staring at the blank wall across from me. Knowing that I would have to eat sooner or later, I slowly stood and made my way across the room to a small table in the corner. Upon it was the standard hospital fare: some unidentifiable meat, juice, fruit, and pudding. Gripping the table to steady myself, I suddenly noticed a small piece of paper tucked under the tray.

Do not fear, the Angel of Music has Christine Daée under his wing.

I felt the blood drain from my face, before I crushed the message in his fist. The dream hadn't merely been a hallucination or a product of my subconscious. Christine was really under the influence of a demon.

That was the moment that everything changed. I vowed to save the girl I knew nothing about, except for what I learned in a dream. I vowed that this time, things would be different. I would not let that monster corrupt her mind, until she became a madwoman. I vowed to make Erik pay for what he did to me and my fiancée.